


On Salvaging Tiny Remnants

by radondoran



Category: Cinderella (1950)
Genre: Community: genprompt_bingo, Gen, Pre-Canon, Talking Mice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:38:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2720720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radondoran/pseuds/radondoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not long after her father's death, Cinderella has begun to make new friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Salvaging Tiny Remnants

"Marc?" Cinderella called as she entered. At first she had been afraid to do more than whisper with her new friend, but one advantage of the tower room was that--apart from the dreaded speaking tubes and bells--it was well isolated from the other parts of the château. She sat down on the bed and slipped off her shoes. "Marc, are you in here?"

From some obscure corner a little mouse scurried out onto the floor before her, eyes glinting in the twilight. "Hi, Cinderelly!" squeaked the mouse.

"Hullo, Marc."

"Better day today?"

Cinderella thought about it. "I only had to scrub the kitchen floor once," she said. "Stepmother said I did adequate work."

"Poor Cinderelly!" cried the tiny voice at her feet.

"Oh, Marc. It's... well, no. It's not all right." She kicked at the side of the bed with her dangling feet. "It's not right at all. But, well, this is how it is now, and I must try to make the most of things."

"That's the spirit!"

"Oh!" said Cinderella, brightening. "Come over to the dressing table, I want to show you something." She hopped from the bed and went to sit in the chair, while Marc darted over and began to climb a leg of the table.

As Cinderella understood it, there were many more mice living here; but as mice are naturally wary of humans, and this part of the château had so long been in disuse, only this one had yet ventured to speak to her. She had called him Marco, after an explorer in a book, and he had taken to the short version--and as for "Cinderelly", she wasn't sure if it was a nickname or simply another quirk of mouse pronunciation. The discovery that a mouse _could_ speak seemed now perfectly natural to her; after all, it was just that most people didn't listen.

Marc stood at attention atop the table. "Ready!"

Cinderella half-opened one of the drawers and reached inside. "When I do the mending and the sewing," she said, "I always have pieces left over that are too small for me to use. But I thought, maybe someone like you..." She pulled a little blue shirt and cap from the drawer, presented them to Marc.

"For me?"

"Uh-huh. I mean, if you want them." She helped him get into the shirt as she spoke. "I'm sorry they're not very good. It's just that you've been so nice to me, and I wanted to... I don't know. Clothes for a mouse--you must think I'm awfully silly, huh?"

But Marc was turning in front of the mirror, for all the world like Drizella with a new frock. "Spiffy!" he said, tipping his cap rakishly at himself. "Beautiful! Thank you, Cinderelly!"

Then he looked up at her reflection. "Cinderelly, what's wrong? What'd I say?" He turned to face her, scurried to the edge of the table nearest her. "I like it. Don't be sad, Cinderelly."

Cinderella's throat was tight with emotion, and at first she could only shake her head no. _Uh-uh_ , she indicated emphatically, her eyes squeezed shut against the coming tears. At last a sharp gasp broke through the silence. "Uh-uh," she repeated aloud, in a voice that quavered. "That's not it, I--I'm not sad." She giggled at how untrue that sounded, and it turned into a half-sob.

"It's just--" She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and looked down right at Marc. "Stepmother never says thank you."

The little mouse looked back at her, hat in hand, as if he didn't know what to say. But Cinderella knew what to say; even after so long, she remembered what to say.

"You're welcome." She smiled through the tears. "You're very welcome!"


End file.
